


Don't You Leave Me Alone

by maybemoriarty



Category: B.A.P, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Abusive Parents, Homophobic Language, Like, M/M, Slow Burn, au in which namjoon and yoongi r the daegu boys, but just in one chapter and i'll make sure there's a warning !!, i'm bad at tags this is my first work lmao, namjoon is out n proud tbh, so slow someone punch me, soft smut, they also get drunk alot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-07 18:46:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11064939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybemoriarty/pseuds/maybemoriarty
Summary: Namjoon moves to Daegu with his family when he's very young. He sees Yoongi for the first time when he's very young. He's still young when he falls in love with him. He isn't young anymore when they take the night bus to Seoul.AU in which Namjoon and Yoongi grow up together, move in together and try their best. In terms of music and,, well life in general.





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> So,, this is the first work I was satisfied enough with to actually post!! I want to apoligize it advance for the very slow development of """"a relationship""" and the artsy shit inbetween. But tbh there really isn't enough sugamon content and people need to appriciate them.  
> Also, I, an asexual, am obviously not good at actually writing smut but I tried to anyway and it came out so vanilla and pure and innocent all I wanted to do was to yell in the void.
> 
> I hope u enjoy this, if not, then i'm sorry if so pls tell me i need validation :))))))

The Kim Family, standing three people at the time, a little girl, a nine year old boy and a slightly burned out but loving mother found themselves staring at a giant grey block of flats. Daegu's Buk District wasn't glamorous, really. It all seemed too hectic and stuffed especially to Namjoon who was used to the green hills and small towns of Ilsan-Gu. But now here he was, trying to keep up with his mother who was climbing up the stairs to the sixth floor, not sure whenever to be excited or worried. Trying to process the faint smell of grease coming from what he assumed to be the third floor and the suffocating feeling of the nicotine on every wall they passed. It also smelled a lot like wet dog, even though pets weren't allowed in the building. Clinging to his right hand was Geongmin looking rather confused than scared, staring at, what was supposed to be their new home with wide eyes. His voice was hushed when he asked his mother how much farther. She just nodded towards a brown, worn out looking door and came to a stop, fumbling with a bundle of keys. The moment the door swung open, Geongmin grabbed Namjoons whole arm and whispered that she wanted to go home. All her brother could do is pat her head and take a step forward into the flat. The first night so far away from home wasn't pleasant. The futon was hard and uncomfortable and the room seemed to get smaller every time Namjoon opened his eyes. At four in the morning he was still awake thinking about all the friends he had in their old neighbourhood, the endless trees behind the town, the bus stop he waited at every morning and he couldn't stop the tears when, instead of wind blowing trough treetops he heard the traffic outside and faint music from somewhere within the building. A few scary, feverish hours later the soft voice of his mother woke him up; “I'll have to go now but I made you lunch and I asked our neighbours to take you to school with them. They'll pick you up in a few minutes. I love you.” Namjoon, who was still dizzy just nodded and let his mother press him against her. Footsteps, keys ringing, a door falling closed. He got up, almost got lost on the way to the bathroom, searched for clothes in the boxes, scattered across hallway, livingroom and kitchen, and woke up Geongmin. While making breakfast for the both of them, he wondered how things would be, if their dad was still with them, as per usual. They wouldn't have to move to Daegu, their mom wouldn't have to work ten hours, six days a week. It was brutal, really. Suddenly he felt anger flaring up inside of him. His dad died in a car accident, an accident he caused because he was drunk. It was a few months after Geongmin was born and he heard his mother talk on the telephone saying he did it on purpose. She fell into a deep depression afterwards. It took her almost a year to get better, during which her sister helped in the household. Now, five years later she got a good job offer for the first time in her life and despite his young age, Namjoon understood she had to take it. A knock on the rancid door made him look up from his cereal.

 

In front of him stood two boys, both older than him with their mother behind them, smiling at Namjoon. “I'm Mrs. Min, we live in the flat next to yours.” They bowed to each other. He told Mrs. Min their names, she introduced her two sons, one eleven the other thirteen and together they drove to school. From then on, Mrs. Min, Yoongi and Junyoung picked them up every morning. They walked back home together in the afternoon, the played together on the weekends since they lived so close together. Even when they visited different high schools and got to know other people they saw each other every day. Yoongi came over every afternoon when Namjoons mom was working, Junyoung helped to cook and take care of Geongmin. The evenings during summer break they sat outside the whole day sharing warm sujo and cigarettes they stole from Yoongis dad. One time he caught them and yelled and punched his son square in the face who was almost used to it. In moments like those Namjoon was relieved he didn't have dad. Once, he tried to fight back but ended up with a bloody nose and a mild concussion. He never told his mom the truth about what had happened. He and Yoongi shared that secret just like everything else.


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As I mentioned before,, Namjoon is out and proud. Also drunk and stupid. Yoongi is also very stupid. Not as drunk though.

When Namjoon turned sixteen he spend the day out with Yoongi since his mother had to work. She left him a cake on the counter and a little, prettily packed envelope containing a birthday card and 7000 won. That day they got drunk and wandered trough Daegus streets until the sky turned comfortably dark and the street lights turned on, Namjoon clinging to Yoongi, hugging him and holding his hand. It was easy. It was always easy between them. “Yoongi”, the name came out a little slurred and his whole body was shaking, maybe from the low temperature that has started to settle over the city like a dome or maybe it was from the alcohol rushing trough his veins or maybe because of what he was about to say, “Yoongi,” he repeated, now a little more stern, “my bestest friend in the the whole world, or I don't know, I've never been anywhere else but Korea-” Yoongi swatted him for that, weakly, “listen, I gotta tell you something real important, alright?” - “Yeah, I figured. Just hurry up I'm cold.” Namjoon took a deep, shaky breath, concentrating on the words he was trying to say; “Listen, I'm gay. Like, hella. I already told my mom but she didn't really care and like, I'm not worried that you'll mind either-” “I don't, by the way.” “Great, but that wasn't all. I- I think I love you, have been loving you since, I don't know, a long time. But, dude, you're all I really care about, besides my family maybe but you totally get my point and I'm really embarrassed to say that but I hope you feel the same way.” Yoongi fell completely silent, his amused smile now gone, his hands shoved hurriedly in his pockets. He didn't even look at Namjoon, who, unable to feel his legs at that point, slouched against a wall, staring up at his best friend. “Dude, I have no idea what- god, I really didn't expect- I'm- I'm sorry.” And with that he turned around and walked home, leaving Namjoon behind. Namjoon who was full of regret, full of fear, full of words that still lingered somewhere inside of him along with the cigarette smoke fogging his mind. He always wanted to be like Yoongi. Never showing a sign of vulnerability, being beaten over and over but still not keeping his head down, facing everything that tried to pull him down. He wasn't like Yoongi though. Where his tears hit the asphalt dark spots appeared, mockingly showing the world how weak he was.

 

The next morning was a Sunday and Mrs. Kim tried to drag her son along with her and Geongmin to church but he was “too hungover and frustrated”. Instead he spent the day drinking black coffee and reading Bukowski. Even though he had the key for years, he knocked and when Namjoon opened, he looked like he did seven years ago, brown curls falling in his face, glancing at his feet, hands in his pockets. Nobody said anything for what felt like hours until Namjoon spoke up “You want some coffee?” Yoongi nodded and followed him inside. He hesitantly sat down next to Namjoon on the old leather sofa that had once been they're most valuable possession but didn't age as well as the people on it. “Bukowski? Again?” Yoongi lightly touched the book and smiled. Namjoon looked away before Yoongi had a chance to decipher the look on his face; fragility, nostalgia. “Listen, I'm really sorry for ditching you. I was just so overwhelmed. Nobody told me they loved me before but-” “You don't feel the same, I know.” He wasn't mad, nor was he really surprised or disappointed. In fact, he didn't feel much at all. Maybe he was scared. “To be honest, I have no idea what I should feel. I don't know if I'm gay or bi or straight. But I know that I love you, you're my best friend since I can remember and I don't want to loose you. I also know that this is probably the shittiest thing I could say right now but I hope we can stay friends.” Namjoon laughed. A honest, kinda obnoxious laugh. “Hey, I made it trough like five or more years without you even noticing, I think I can handle a few more.” Now Yoongi was grinning too, that beautiful gummy grin. “You're not even that great.” He now had a best friend again and the faint, selfish hope that friend would start loving him in a less straight way.

Things felt easy again from then on, life went it's usual ways for almost two years until their youth and their innocence, their naivety reached the breaking point.

 


	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh boy, shit is about to get real !! also MENTIONS OF PHYSICAL ABUSE, nothing explicit but if you're sensetive pls be save :((

It was the middle of the night when Namjoon heard the front door open. His mom returned home from work hours ago and his sister was with him the whole day. He silently got up and shuffled into the hallway.

“Nam- joon?” The voice was small and broken, shaking, interrupted by a hiccup. “Shit, Yoongi?” - “Yah.” His fragile frame was illuminated by the light of the lanterns outside, standing hunched over in the doorway, arms wrapped around itself. “Fuck, what happened?” he whispered carefully as if talking to a cornered animal. “C-Can we talk out- outside maybe?” Without another word Namjoon grabbed a jacket and shoes and followed Yoongi down the stairs, his silent sobbing and hitched breathing creating a haunting echo in the dark hallways. Out the front door Namjoon held out a cigarette and Yoongi gratefully accepted it. After a few drags, he started talking.

“I told my dad about our tape and that I want to stop studying law enforcement here and start studying performing art and composition with you. In Seoul. Like we always said we would.” His voice broke a little, another deep drag, then he looked up and Namjoon saw the bruise on his cheek, the dried blood on his lip and under his nose, the mark on his temple. But he didn't just see the surface. He saw under Yoongis skin and he saw that something inside of him was pushed so far to an edge, all it needed was someone slamming a door shut and it would fall and shatter, edges too sharp to pick it up and fix it. In loss of words, he just pulled Yoongi close, rubbing circles in his back and crying silent tears into his shoulders. They sat like that for a while until Namjoon whispered in Yoongis hair “Let's run away.” They've talked about it before, especially after Junyoung moved to Busan to study. After he left, the beatings have been getting worse and it's not like Mrs. Min didn't try to stop her husband but he just pushed her away, said he didn't want to hurt her. He was a hypocrite, really. The only reason they never did is because Namjoon didn't want to hurt his mother who've truly been trough enough but for Yoongi, he'd even leave her. He was blind and reckless for Yoongi, Yoongi who never even had to ask to have Namjoon say Yes, Yoongi who was full of childhood purity, the relentlessness of their youth, full of promises and unspoken words of affection that Namjoon craved to hear.

“Tonight?” - “Tonight.”

 

They were both shaking, heart beating in their throats when they packed their bags, collecting a few clothes, as much money as they had on hand, what wasn't more than 40000 won. It'd be enough for a two bus tickets. Namjoon could barely write but he knew he owed it to his mother. At least this much. He wished her well, said how sorry he was multiple times and told her he'd call every day and visit her as often as he could. He left another letter to Geongmin telling her how much he loved her and that she should do better than him. Then they left, heading straight to the train station, hands intertwined, still shaking but not looking back. The first bus to Seoul left at two in the morning, driving for four hours. At six in the morning they arrived, no idea where to go from there. They spend the morning in a coffee shop at the Seoul Station until they got kicked out for falling asleep. They had no choice but to sit outside the station although it was late February and freezing. The first night in Seoul inspired a lot of angsty songs they'd write later on. Since they didn't have a place to stay all they could do is sleep in the train station with the other homeless citizens. The next morning Yoongi woke up and started coughing and Namjoon swore he had Pneumonia. They were desperate and lost but they also had one last plan who they met years ago in High School.

“Namjoon! I didn't hear from you in ages!” Seokjins voice made them both smile, despite Pneumonia. “Hyung, it's so good to hear your voice, you wouldn't believe me.” Yoongi nodded in agreement. “Listen, hyung, we're in Seoul and- yeah, it's great but listen, could we meet up today?” They stared at each other in anticipation. “Really? Yes...Yeah, the main station. Great, thanks, Jin.” Namjoon breathed out in relive and Yoongi grabbed his hand somewhat semi automatic.

“We can do this, I promise.”

 


	4. four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you remember last chapter? yea, turns out i was wrong because THIS is where shit is about to get real  
> ft. jin as a supportive person and yoongi as the big ol' piece of shit ((((also i made jin a few years older pls don't call me out noone can know i'm a fake fan who doesn't know how to use google :////))))

Kim Seokjin, who was two years older than Yoongi and the perfect replacement for every mother ever, was a walking ray of sunshine. Most of the time anyway. Today he wasn't.   
“You did what? Namjoon I'm really disappointed in you. And Yoongi, I'm really glad you're finally out of that toxic household but was this really a smart choice? You don't have any money and I honestly doubt you have a plan in general, no offence.” Namjoon gulped, cleared his throat, looked away. Yoongi nervously picked at his shirt and bit on his thumbnail. “Oh I see. You called me hoping I had a plan. Is that it?” Namjoon was the first one to find his voice again, “I'm so sorry, I know it was stupid but I- we hoped you could maybe help us find a flat.” Seokjin raised a brow but his face started to soften for the most part and he didn't seem as tense any more, “Fine. I'll help you. But just because I enjoy being needed!”   
After only a week of running around the city, meeting a new friend of Jin's every two hours and crashing on his futon for five hours per night because they still had to find a place to work, they got a studio apartment in Gwanak-gu, which, for only 31800 won monthly rent, was one of the best things that happened to them.  
Namjoon started at a record store in down town, perfectly fitting the job describtion since his self-taught English was well and the biggest part of his clientele were foreigners. Yoongi started as a barista near their new home. They lived off instant meals and the food Yoongi sometimes stole from the coffee shop. They wrote songs and every second months Hoseok, one of Jins closer friends, let them use his studio for recording purposes. They never got to make more than ten physical copies but they uploaded it and sent emails to every label they could think of. 

It only took Namjoon one term of waiting until he got accepted into the SNU to study Composition and Anglistics because of his great references and Yoongi started an apprenticeship in Hoseoks studio. They only saw each other in the evening and for breakfast plus Sundays spend lazily on the bed, window wide open, the soul of the city filling up the room with it's millions of voices and much needed white noise. But they were happy. Namjoon even started dating again. Jackson, one of his fellow students was his first boyfriend but didn't stay longer than two months before leaving him for another guy. Jackson was followed by Yongguk, a rapper Namjoon met in the subway. They broke up after three months. But it didn't really matter too much because, after all, he still had Yoongi and that was all he needed. 

“Namjoon?” - “Bad timing, babe, I'm studying for my exam.” Yoongi sighed and plopped down on their shared bed, “C'mon, I'm about to tell you groundbreaking news and I'm pretty certain they are more important than your exam.” Namjoon muttered a “No offense but I doubt it.”, put a blanket over his friends head and continued reading. “Dude, for someone with an IQ of 149 you should know that a piece of fabric won't shut me up.” - “Knowing you there isn't anything that can shut you up, really.” - “Can't argue with that.” Yoongi got up and went to open the door, not without looking at Namjoon for a long time, his eyes melancholic, his smile sad; “Guess I'll just surprise you tomorrow then.” Namjoon absently nodded; “Do whatever. Have fun at work.” Before shutting the door behind him he quickly added “Also you gotta stop calling me 'Babe'.” 

Namjoon was late. He woke up too late, missed his bus and got to his class fifteen minutes after the exam started. Lucky as he was, his professor was an elderly, compassionate lady who let him take it anyway since he was one of her top students. Three hours later he stood outside the campus, waiting for the bus home, cigarette lit and coffee in hand. In that moment he remembered Yoongis 'incredibly important news'. Did one of the labels finally notice them? Did he get promoted? Did he get married? Who knows, maybe he even won the lottery. The closer he got to his final station the higher he had to crank up the volume of his music to drown the worries that started to become louder in his head; what if Yoongi decided to move out, what if something happened to his family, what if he was sick, what if he found someone- he didn't even dare to finish that thought because he felt his heart sinking and his hands trembling in his pockets.  
As if heaven knew, the clouds got darker and heavier with every step he took towards the apartment, creating a gloomy atmosphere, the worst of foreboding filling up Namjoons mind. The door fell closed behind him and he couldn't feel his legs, he tried to suck as much air in his lungs, which felt barely functional, as he could without seeming suspicious. Yoongi sat on the bed, next to someone Namjoon didn't recognize. He didn't seem older than twenty, petite, pretty face, a little smaller than Yoongi, beautifully shaped body. He hesitantly smiled at Namjoon, his eyes forming crescent moons, his lips curling upwards on one side. He was breathtaking. Would've been anyway, if Namjoon would be breathing. “Namjoon, meet Park Jimin.” Yoongi was the first one to speak up, not looking at either of them. “It's really nice to finally meet you!” Jimin held out a tiny hand and Namjoon was afraid to break him when he took it. His skin was soft and warm, his handshake somehow comforting. “Hi.” was all he managed to say as he quickly let go of Jimin. “And he's... a friend of yours?” It was a stupid question, Namjoon knew but he was not certain what to do with the whole situation. “Actually”, Yoongi took a deep breath and carefully placed his hand on Jimins, 

“He's my boyfriend.”


	5. five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HOMOPHOBIC LANGUAGE !!  
> I might be v bad at living myself but I can still tell you with 100% certainty: don't call ur ex while having a mental breakdown because of the person u actually love. is a bad idea. also namjoon is being an inconsiderate lil bitch but he deserves a little drama

Namjoon couldn't breath. He felt like someone stabbed him in the stomach, cut him open, ripped out his guts and stuffed them back in the wrong way around. He felt acid rising in his throat, felt cold sweat and heat heat all over his body. Something inside his head banged against his skull, every emotion tried to get out at the same time and he started drowning in them, suffocating. His fingernails sunk far into his palm as he gathered the all the strength he could, “I'm sorry, Jimin, I'm sure you're a great guy but could you please leave us for a minute?” Jimin looked helplessly at Yoongi who kissed him and nodded. He stood up and exited into the hallway, leaving his boyfriend and Namjoon behind. 

“Namjoon, I-” He couldn't hold it in any longer. “Fuck you, Yoongi. Shit, somehow I knew. But you? A fucking fag?” Namjoon was blind, in loss of any rationality, any logic, any ability to understand. “I have known you for as long as I can remember, I followed you everywhere, never second guessed you, for fucks sake, Yoongi, I loved- still love you! What gives you the fucking right to fuck me over like this, huh?” before he could rage on, Yoongi stood up, pushing Namjoon back. “What gives me the right? You make it sound like I fucking asked you to never leave me alone! You clinged onto me my whole life, then told me you loved me, not leaving me any choice but to stay with you because otherwise I would've been that one homophobic asshole who left his poor wallflower friend behind because he was scared! You suffocated me, Namjoon!” “I ran away with you! I stood up for you! I got you trough high school! You know where I could be now if I didn't waste two years working for a minimum wage to pay for this fucking apartment?” Namjoon sunk to his knees, now feeling the tears burning in his eyes, “Do you really think I enjoy loving you? It hurt every time I looked at you, knowing that'd you never be able to love me the way I wanted- want you too. It hurt every time I kissed someone and all I could think of was you. Fuck, it still hurts. I tried, Yoongi, I tried over and over again to fall in love with someone else. It didn't work. And now you show up with that perfect boy on your side, better than I could ever be and you tell me you're in love with him.” he couldn't hold back anymore, he started sobbing, looking at Yoongi, hitting him weakly, “Why would you do this to me, why, why, why!” “God, you're fucking pathetic, Kim Namjoon.” Yoongis face was full of disgust, disappointment, maybe sadness, when he stood up and slammed the door shut. Namjoon knew that he fucked up for good. Yoongi had every right to leave and never come back. But he couldn't stop himself from crying, couldn't stop hitting against the wall in utter desperation, neither could he stop himself from dialling the number. 

“Joon-ah? Why the hell are you calling?” He felt a sharp pain in his chest at the familiar nickname. “Yongguk, I- I'm sorry, I didn't know what else-” his voice broke before he could finish the sentence and he felt vomit rising again. “Shit, Namjoon, what happened? Do you wanna come over?” Namjoon pressed out an unsteady “Yes” before he hung up. The whole way out of the apartment, down the stairs, onto the street was a blur. The first thing he felt was cold rain blending in with warm tears, then he heard a taxi stopping, someone talking. Without wasting a thought, he gave her the address, not even sure where it'd lead him until he remembered the phone call. She locked eyes with him before starting up the engine, looking as confused as he was. Yoongi was right, he was fucking pathetic, he was fragile, unable to function on his own. The grey buildings fleeing out of his sight like the raindrops sticking to the window. Suddenly he was back in Daegu at his old middle school, sitting at lunch with his sister, Yoongi, Junyoung and that Jungkook kid that always hung around with Geongmin. He remembered how they talked about moving to Seoul and Jungkook got all excited about it and showed them the ugliest drawing Namjoon had ever seen, titled “Seoul Rain”. Geongmin laughed at him because he kept saying he'll go to the University there and study art. A sad smile crept over Namjoons face. Seoul rain truly was as ugly as Jungkook had drawn it. His eyes wandered off to the hunched figures of people with umbrellas spread protectively over them like a shield, looking somewhat pitiful. The sound of cars rushing by, heels on wet asphalt, water slamming hard against the windshield and, Yoongis voice. Still echoing in his head. Pathetic. He repeated the word over and over and over, hoping it would stop feeling like a blade, cutting open his insides. It didn't. There was something else in the back of his head. Someone playing piano. 

Pale fingers dancing over the ivory keys. Curls jumping up and down as his body jerked at every change of melody. The spirit of ecstasy possessed him every time he played.  
“Dude, that sounds amazing. Like something out of an old Indie road movie, you know the ones.” Yoongi grinned and looked up from the instrument, the unreal bewitchment gone in a flash; “Joon-ah, don't be ridiculous.” “No really, I love it! What's it called?” “Threnody.” Namjoon flashed a dimpled smile at him; “You're so emo, I'm disgusted.”

The taxi came to a halt and ripped the moment, along with the melody away from Namjoon. “We're here. 4886 won.” Namjoon didn't respond, kept sitting in silence. She looked at him again, now rather pissed off than confused; “Hey, I can see you clearly had a bad day but if you want to keep sitting in here you have to pay for it.” “Yah, no, I'm sorry.” he wiped his face and hectically searched for his wallet. He wasn't even sure if he had it with him when he left but he refused to take the humiliation of his ex having to pay for him. He actually found 4506 won in his pockets, the bills creasy and washed a few times, the coins looking somehow rusty. She frowned at him and pursed her lips in anticipation. “I'm so sorry, this is all I have on me but maybe if I-” A deep sigh interrupted him mid-sentence, “Forget it, just get the fuck out” she took the money from him and a long finger pointed at the door, “Good luck figuring out your life.” While apologising and bowing to the young woman, Namjoon stumbled out of the cab. She waved the gesture off, slammed the door shut and rushed back into traffic. He was left behind, the rain smashing into his face. He didn't have a jacket on, his hair was a wet mess and his eyes were puffy and red. Pathetic.   
As soon as he rang, someone hurried outside, onto the pavement. In front of him appeared his ex boyfriend, handsome as always, all dark curls and wary eyed. He stood a few inches taller than Namjoon, dressed in shorts and a bathrobe, looking at him in distress. “You look terrible.”, his baritone voice soothed Namjoon immediately. He didn't realize how much he missed him until now. “I feel even worse.” Yongguk pulled him close and patted his hair. It should've been awkward, ill-fitting even, but it wasn't. Yongguks delicate hand in his hair, his chest on Namjoons, feeling him breath, his scent reminding him of his childhood home. “Fuck, I missed you.” He should've been ashamed of being so bland, of taking advantage of someone he hurt, but he wasn't. Yongguks sounded somewhat relieved and Namjoon buried his head in the crook of his neck, sucking up his warmth. “D'you wanna go upstairs?” he mumbled in Namjoons hair.


	6. six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> very short chapter but i wanna keep it exciting ;)  
> anyway gukkie is an actual angel but what else is new

“He tried to call me yesterday.” Namjoon stared at his phone, loosely in his hand. Yongguk, laying next to him just grunted. It was around noon and they were both hungover, tired and suffering from great headaches. “He tried to call me fifty times.” “'as a lot.” came the husky voice from under the blanket. “Yeah, it is. Also an unknown number texted me. Something about us having to sort our shit out.” “Jimin?” - “I dunno, I guess so.” Yongguk turned around, looking up at Namjoon, as stern as he could despite being more asleep than awake, “Do you still love him?”

 

“First time celebrating in our own apartment, dude, how cool is that.” Yoongi popped open a bottle of champagne and flashed a gummy, closed eyed smile at Namjoon; “I told you we'd make it! Remember? After that terrible night we had to sleep at the station and I got pneumonia?” - “How could I forget, that was the best night of my life. Ten out of ten, would do that again.” The fireworks outside went off, carrying hopes of better days and empty promises in the cold winter sky. People outside were cheering. “Time for my New Years Kiss!” Yoongi rolled his eyes but pecked Namjoons lip tenderly. Namjoon knew he did it out of pity but he didn't care. He swept Yoongi off his feet and yelled something among the lines “Fuck yeah, we made it! Fuck you, Seoul! You can't break the gay wondertwins!” to which Yoongi responded with hysterical laughing while clinging to Namjoon and kissing his cheek in euphoria.

 

“Yeah. I still love him. I never stopped, I don't think I ever will.” Yongguk looked exhausted but smiled anyway. “Go home. See what he has to say.” Namjoon lightly touched his cheek and kissed his forehead, “You're way too good for me, Bang Yongguk. You're way too good for this world.”

 

His feet were shuffling over the lukewarm asphalt, the fog all around Singil-dong making Namjoon believe the city burned along with him. The rain was supposed to cleanse the air but all it did was make it heavier. The thick base line weighed Namjoon down as he tried to find his way trough the masses of people and concrete surrounding him. From time to time a neon sign that was left on over the night into the morning or a smudged tag on one of the never-ending walls flashing by, reminding him of the way Yoongi laughs just to be left with the omnipresent monotony of a metropolis again. Seoul isn't all that different from Daegu or any town in particular. Everything looks like you're hometown if you walk for long enough. It feels like you're hometown. The same blueprint. The woman down the street hanging laundry on the balcony, resembling you're mother. But you shake the feeling off and keep walking, never really escaping, never arriving in the future.

 


	7. seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> flowers. because who doesn't like some good ol' flowers once in a while right (also don't stop me now just came on n i'm yelling)

The apartment felt too small, too heavy and brought the acid back, salt biting on open wounds. Yoongi jumped at the sound of keys. Namjoon started shivering, the room was cold. He wasn't wanted here. He needed to go home. “Namjoon-” he looked up at the sound of his name, sounding somewhat foreign. “I'm sorry. I know this isn't going to fix anything but I broke up with Jimin.” Namjoon felt the urge to laugh. “Why.” - “Excuse me?” Now he actually laughed, a painful laugh that left his throat sore. “Why did you break up with him?” - “After what you said, I mean- it didn't feel right, I guess.” So it was out of pity just like everything Yoongi did for him. “What I said yesterday- I didn't mean it, you know that, right? And I'm really sorry.” - “Me too, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called you, … that word.” He shook his head and his curls looked almost golden in the faint morning sun that found it's way into the room and illuminating dust and hardwood floor, making it as golden. Yoongis face wasn't hard anymore but longing for forgiveness. “Uh, this is gonna sound really stupid but since it's the most conventional way to apologise, I brought you flowers.” - “I had multiple bets that the first time you'd give me flowers was as soon as I was six feet under.” Namjoon smiled weakly, pain not forgotten but silently shared. 

 

“You're twentieth birthday is in a week and I still don't have a present, I'm not a friend, I'm a dishonour to this family.” Yoongi wobbled his arms overly dramatic, pacing up and down the hallway while Namjoon still struggled to put on his shoes. “You could buy me flowers?” - “No, that's gay.” They locked eyes for a few seconds before both snorted. “So if it can't be gay, you'll have to buy me a car or like an axe or something so manly I can't abuse it with my homosexuality.” - “Fine I'll buy you flowers.” 

 

“Marigolds, dandelions and sunflowers. I know you don't like yellow but it reminded me of the old painting that hung over the bed when we moved in, the van Gogh one. And it's supposed to represent happiness and hope and, well, you get where I'm coming from.” - “I do, thank you.”

The question was lingering in Namjoons mind; “Do you want to try?”. But he couldn't voice it, too afraid of further rejection. So he did something else, something possibly much worse. He kissed Yoongi.   
His lips were anything but soft, the habit of biting down on them when he concentrated or felt anxious resulting in dead skin peeling off. The hair curling down his forehead was itching Namjoons nose and he tasted somewhat bitter. When they hesitantly pulled apart, Yoongi looked irritated but by no means mad or upset. The lack of conversation was filling up the room, pressing down on their chests until Yoongi shook his head and snorted. It now was Namjoons turn to look irritated. “I'm sorry but that really-” he paused and his gaze was fixed at Namjoon, a smug grin painted on his face, “that wasn't as bad as I imagined.” - “Is this a subtle way of telling me I can kiss you again?” His pale face turned pink when he stuttered out a 'maybe take me out for coffee first'. And he did. And even after almost two years in Seoul, they apparently still got kicked out of coffee shops for staying too long. 

“Can you believe they just threw us out?”, Yoongi sounded really offended when he flipped of the barista trough the glass door. “Yoongi, they told us they would like to close about ten times. Also that poor dude looked like he was about to cry. Can't you make your face look a little less like you're about to stab someone with their own dick?” Yoongi swatted him before murmuring something about what would happen to Namjoons dick if he wouldn't stop being a bitch.  
It was already dark and the cold took over the city, illuminated by artificial star, crumpled paper and forgotten ideas ghosting the streets along with the apathetic youth. Yoongi was always fascinated by cities. By the billions of lights burning along with the billion of lives and never fulfilled wishes. By the anonymity of faces that don't get recognized before they have a name. But the longer he was in the metropolis, the more he lost that fascination along with himself. Because all that Seoul really was, was an endless maze of concrete and asphalt and getting lost is what mazes are made for. But he found something way more fascinating. He had known Namjoon for so long and still he discovered another alley, another station or shortcut everyday. Namjoon was better than every city could ever be, not holding false promises and missed chances in his depths. When he grabbed his hand and looked up at him expectantly, Namjoon intertwined their fingers, his bleached hair taking whatever colour the neon signs above gave them. “It's been a while since you smiled like this.” - “Don't flatter yourself, Min Yoongi.”


	8. eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> no vases but smut. or smthng like that, i actually had to overcome several urges to jump out of the window to write something anywhere close to smut so don't @ me if this isn't good   
> also: CONSENT!! BECAUSE CONSENT IS THE BEST OKAY NEVER FORGET TO ASK FOR CONSENT!!!!!!

“You should probably put the flowers in a vase, you know.”, Yoongi yelled into the general direction of the kitchen. “Since when do we own vases? We have like three cups, a set of chopsticks my mom send us and half a plate.” - “I just don't want them to die, they were like, at least eight thousand won.” Something shattered and Yoongi turned to look at Namjoon who stared at the floor in the most miserable way one could stare at a kitchen floor. “Our quantity of cups just went from three to two.” Namjoon scooted on the bed and leaned on him, still looking guilty. Yoongi smiled to himself before saying “In case you forgot, you took me out for coffee.” Namjoon didn't move for a long time before gasping at the sudden realization.

The second, honest kiss they shared wasn't as short as the first one. It started out tender and light, Namjoons hand buried in Yoongis curls, the other one firmly holding his hip but they got used to each other rather quickly and suddenly every touch got more demanding, Yoongi was pressed, back against the wall, Namjoon on his lap, lips ghosting over another, heavy breathing and hushed voices filling up every inch of the apartment. When Namjoon pinned Yoongi down with one hand on his waist, tightened his grip at his hair, Yoongi finally knew what he wanted. And because Yoongi was a very brusque person, he just went ahead and grabbed Namjoons crotch who, surprised at the action, jerked against his hand. He hurriedly panted out a “Are you sure you want this?” and Yoongi, unable to speak at the sight of Namjoon with his deep, onyx eyes staring into his, all messed up hair and puffy lips, nodded and closed his eyes when he felt Namjoons tongue at his jaw, his neck and collarbone, followed by teeth. his whole body responding to the pain by pressing Namjoon closer, nails digging over his back. The making-out was rough and longing, resulting in scratches and bruises covering them like a canvas with blooming colours. Yoongi couldn't bare the heat rising in him anymore. He was stripped down and exposed, his inner thighs twitching under Namjoons touch. “Kim Namjoon, I swear to god if you don't start fucking me soon I will push you out the window.” his voice was way huskier and harsher than he expected and Namjoon obeyed immediately. He rummaged in the drawer next to them and Yoongi was slightly shocked that Namjoon had condoms in their flat until he remembered that they were actual adults. “Did you do this before?” - “No. I trust you though.” Of course that made Namjoons face turn into a shit eating grin. “Well I hope I don't fuck this up. Or well, I do, in that case.” - “Pushing you down this building is still an option, you know.” Namjoon laughed and kissed Yoongi again, protectively brushing his thumb over red cheeks. “Okay, listen because I won't explain this twice, if you feel uncomfortable in any way or if something hurts, please tell me.” - “Tell you? I'll knock you out if anything happens to my precious ass!” - “And you'd have every right to do so because that is indeed a great butt. Also I'll have to, uh, well, prepare you and it'll feel weird at first but just for like, a few seconds. Got it?” Yoongi wrapped his legs around Namjoon and forced him down, “Yes, sir. Now can we please have sex?” Namjoon nodded, still not able to completely process the situation; the boy he had loved for so many years, hated yesterday and loved again this morning, laying under him, looking so vulnerable and so breathtakingly beautiful. He looked at his face, how he bit his lip and pressed his eyes shut when Namjoon carefully inserted the first finger. The way his arms were folded around Namjoons neck, his delicate body shivering when the second finger followed, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping him from drowning. He started to relax, his hands wandering to Namjoons ass, decorating everything in little scratches, the burning of them being the only thing keeping Namjoon conscious. The third finger made Yoongi gasp and his eyes lost their usual almond shape. He slowly got more courageous, responding to Namjoons movements. “Are you ready?” The question almost got lost between lust and desire, for it was only whispered into a kiss. “Yes, yes, I am, please just fuck me already, please, Joon-ah.” Yoongi never showed weakness, so him, begging Namjoon was overwhelming. The only thought Yoongi could finish before everything was drowned in pure light was that it shouldn't be this great to have something up your ass.

His lips were trembling when he stuttered out Namjoons name over and over, his moaning getting more high pitched the faster Namjoon thrusted, him, not being able to stop his voice from cracking a few times. Showing his imperfections. Being under Yoongis skin, emotionally and physically, was better than Namjoon could've ever imagined. Yoongis pale skin like thin silk in the silvery light falling trough closed curtains. Milk and honey dripping from his plush rosé coloured lips onto the messy bedsheets. When he came something in Namjoon exploded, stars burning, universes being born, a whole forest blooming just for Yoongi, for the darkest shade of black his pupils were when he looked at Namjoon with heavy lids, for the way he pulled Namjoon down and kissed him, biting his bottom lip and possessively wrapping himself around Namjoon.

“That was probably the best thing I've ever did.” - “Thanks, you were okay too.” Yoongi nudged Namjoons arm and pouted; “Namjoon, I'm naked and fragile please tell me that was the best ass your dick has ever seen.” - “Just like, you, in general is the best thing me and my dick have ever seen.”, he stared at Yoongi, admired the glow radiating off him, lighting up the whole room, his hair sticking up in every direction, his fingers absently wandering over Namjoons torso and arms, the little drops of sweat, the bruises and his neck and once again realized how happy he was. “You look beautiful, you know. And you have the most beautiful orgasm face I've ever seen. You're just very beautiful.” - “Should I google synonyms for 'beautiful'?” - “We had sex like two minutes ago, let me live.” - “Thank you, though. You look really gorgeous too. Especially with all of this going on.”, he brushed one of the sweaty blond strains out of Namjoons face and kissed him carefully, “We should do this more often.”

 


	9. nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did y'all forgot this was abt my boys wanting to make music??? well here's a lil reminder

“I feel like you don't even realize how big this actually is!” - “What, my penis or the gig?”

Yoongi threw one of the chopsticks he was supposed to be cleaning at Namjoons head without hesitation, “Take a joke you cold-hearted bastard.” - “I'm sorry but this is the first time someone is actually showing interest in our music, I don't see how that could be funny.” They both went silent, white noise rushing trough the open window along with a warm, comforting summer breeze, soothing their trepidation. “We fought for this for so long, we can't just not go.” Namjoon nodded but saw that Yoongis hands were shaking just as much as his own. “What should we perform though?”

To be an artist doesn't just mean to express yourself anymore, it means to please the crowd, to produce something they can swallow up easily like an aspirin after a long night. But that's not what Namjoon and Yoongi did. Like themselves, their beats had rough edges, didn't follow a certain algorithm, put together with nostalgia, rage or melancholia in mind, rather than the latest charts. Their lyrics either angsty teenage poems or opera of hatred, not written for the masses to like but to let them know the truth. “How about we start of with“Voice” and then hype them up with “Tony Montana” and “God Rap”? - “As the Grandmaster once said, the trick is to manipulate the audience into thinking what you play is what they want.” Namjoon looked proud of himself, “We could also play “Life”!” - “Yah, because I want our first ever audience to walk out with crippling depression and existential crises.” - “How about we do the Cyphers Hoseok wrote with us?” Namjoon nodded enthusiastically and poked Yoongi repeatedly in the side. “Can you imagine how cool we'll be?” - “Barely.”

 

The club was small and stuffed, about two hundred people were huddled around the even smaller stage, desperately awaiting anything at all. It was one of those downtown clubs, the ones which tend to disappear between the giant homogeneously built apartment dwellings, the ones only known by natives and young underground producers. And between them the two boys from Daegu, fingers clenching microphones, clothes wet, limbs trembling. The first song was “Voice”. Namjoon asked Yoongi to play the piano live and accompany him in the the chorus which ended up sounding good but it just wasn't the right music for a club even though some people gave polite applause, probably the ones who came to listen and not to dance. But when the first sequence of ominous sounding chords oozed out of the giant speakers, all of the sudden, they went still and Yoongi couldn't have been more proud of the reaction he just caused. When they started to spit harsh, unvorgiving lines, the audience was getting excessive. And everything was how Namjoon always wanted it to. And as his surroundings started to blur and the colours of two hundred heartbeats started melting together, as all he could recognize wasn't his own but Yoongis voice and the beats stopped pushing him down but started lifting him up into never known heights and he was certain that this was what he wanted to do, that all the blood, sweat and tears were worth it.

 

“They loved us.” - “They really did.” The cigarette they shared under a hot, almost feverish night turned things back to monochrome. But once you've seen the colours, you don't forget them. “I told you we'd make it.”


End file.
